Only in one sense, Salvatore thought. But he skimmed the menu rapidly and nodded.

The waitress arrived. "Something to drink?"

"We're ready to order," Polly said. "I'll have smoked salmon on multi-grain, no b.u.t.ter but with lettuce and tomato. Water with ice. Tap, not bottled."

The waitress's eyes were not made up and slightly swollen, making her look sleepy, as if lunchtime was her sunrise. "Sir?"

"The chef's salad and a latte."

When they were alone Salvatore said, "Did you know that Jack has been married before?"

To his surprise, Polly gave a quick nod. "Her name was Belinda. She died. She was older than he was."

"You didn't mention it yesterday."

"It didn't occur to me."

"But mightn't that explain how Jack knows the registrar? She might have registered Belinda's death."

"I didn't think of that." But Polly wrinkled her nose, and gave her head a little shake. "The registrar's tone didn't sound like 'I have met you in sad circ.u.mstances before.' It was more 'Hi, Jack, nice to see you again, my friend.'"

"Isn't that quite a lot to conclude from a brief encounter?"

"It was also ... her body language, the way she looked at him while we were talking. No, I'm sure I'm right."

Polly was the client ... So Salvatore moved on. "Yesterday you told me that Jack owns his flat. I drove past it today. It's very nice."

"Yes."

"As is his car the Beemer convertible."

"Oh, I love that car. Especially on warm days. Not that we've had many this year."

"Polly, how does Jack afford it all?" Property in Bath was notoriously expensive. Beemers were expensive everywhere.

"It's not like he owns the flat outright. He has a mortgage."

Nevertheless ... "Does he have money beyond his nursing salary?"

"His wife left him an income."

"An income rather than capital?"

"That's what he said. We talked about it when all the credit crunch stuff hit the news."

"It must be quite a large income."

"I'd never ask him a thing like that."

"Even though you're about to get married?"

"He said he doesn't owe anybody anything, apart from the mortgage, and I believe him."

I take it Jack's body language said, "Trust me", Salvatore thought.

"But you're right," Polly said. "He must be reasonably well off. His flat is furnished very nicely."

Salvatore leaned forward and looked serious. "Polly, if I'm to unravel Jack's connection to the registrar, it would really help me to look at his personal papers. Things like his bank and credit card statements. His photographs."

"Oh!"

It was clear that Polly didn't like the sound of where this might be going.

However ... "When people come to a detective, they have questions. But they don't always realize what it will cost to get answers. The cost beyond the money. That can include doing things that are distasteful, things that you would never consider in normal circ.u.mstances. You wouldn't poke into Jack's personal effects but that really is what you've hired me to do."

Polly's lips tightened. For a moment Salvatore thought she was about to become an ex-client. But then she gathered her bag from the floor, fished in it and put a set of keys on the table. "To Jack's flat. Copy them and drop the originals back to me at the office this afternoon."

Salvatore nodded solemnly.

"His shift today ends at five. He won't be home before twenty past."

The Old Man was dozing in front of a jigsaw puzzle when there was a knock at the door. He wasn't sure he'd heard it at first. But then the knock was repeated.

"The door!" he called to Mama.

He had just remembered that Mama went out shopping when Rosetta called back, "It's me, Papa," and entered.

"h.e.l.lo, my darling girl," the Old Man said. "You come to visit? I make you some coffee. Wait, is it tea you prefer?" He readied himself to get up.

"Nothing to drink, thanks, Papa. I want to ask you a favour."

"A favour." He considered. "You want money to start a computing business?"

"I need to go out to make a visit on Salvatore's case. Would you cover the office for an hour?"

"You want I should cover the office?"

"But if you have something else to do ..."

"I have so much to do." He glanced at the puzzle. "Huh! I will be down the stairs in a minute. Or two. Best I go to the bathroom first, like before a trip. Who knows how long you must be out on Salvatore's visit."

"An hour and a half at most, Papa. I'll see you downstairs."

Jonathan Aloysius Appleby's flat was on the first floor in a well-maintained building overlooking a park. It wasn't huge two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen but it was immaculate. Even the light-switches looked new. Jonathan Aloysius clearly liked his things just so.

It was in the smaller of the bedrooms that Salvatore found the cache of doc.u.ments he was looking for bank and credit card statements, employment and personal correspondence, even Jack's will. They were in file folders in the drawers of a lush mahogany desk. Because Salvatore was on a timetable he took photographs of everything he could find rather than studying the doc.u.ments one by one.

Just past four, when he was about to open the last drawer, his phone vibrated. It was Rosetta. "Hi, Sis. How'd you do?"

"I managed to get fifteen minutes." After leaving Polly at lunchtime, Salvatore had asked Rosetta to try to interview the registrar. "She was very professional."

"Did she acknowledge knowing Jonathan Aloysius?"

"She agreed that they know each other."

"Personally?"

"She laughed when I asked. Then made a cross with her index fingers."

"What? Like to keep vampires away?"

"Exactly."

"Jack is a vampire?"

"I'm sure she just meant that she would never get personal with him. Very jolly and bright, but beyond what I've already said she wouldn't say anything. And she does wear a wedding ring and is in her fifties, which would reduce the odds. How are you doing there?"

"Taking lots of snaps but nothing has jumped out at me so far."

"We can download the pictures and have a look when you get back. Will you be long?"

"I don't want to get caught in flagrante. I don't think I've got much more to do."

"See you soon then." Rosetta rang off.

Salvatore opened the last drawer in Appleby's desk. It held only one folder but it was pretty thick. Opening it, he found that the top doc.u.ment was a Death Certificate.

David Lunghi returned from school at about five-fifteen later than usual because of football practice. Being wiry and quick rather than muscular and tall meant the ground-level game suited him. He wasn't interested in it the way a lot of his cla.s.smates were but David enjoyed the strategic side of the game. He was a pa.s.ser rather than a shooter and because of that his goal-scoring contemporaries liked playing with him. His pa.s.ses made them look good.

In turn, David enjoyed the respect from schoolmates that arose from physical qualities rather than his brainpower. It was a gratifying development in his school life. He was even being noticed more by girls.

But when he dropped his school bag in the kitchen and headed for the office, it wasn't to recount his latest footballing successes. He wanted an update on the agency's current investigations. Because if he liked football and enjoyed physics, it was the family business that he loved.

In the office David found his grandfather, who was looking out the window. "Hi, Grandpa."

The Old Man turned with a smile. "My David. Welcome to the hub, the heartbeat of the agency."

"Has it been busy?"

"Only in my head. So ... You are back from school."

"Has Uncle Sal learned anything for his new case?"

"Your uncle thinks he has located important doc.u.ments. He and Rose wanted to study these doc.u.ments here." The Old Man patted the monitor on the desk. "And send me back to my pasture, to my stable. But I told them, Go look at your pictures on Rosetta's better computer. I can finish the day here, no extra charge."

"So they're in Auntie Rose's room?"

"With their important pictures. You want to look?"

"I think I do."

"So look. And when you've looked, come back. If the telephone should ring, you can answer."

David enjoyed saying, "Lunghi Detective Agency, David Lunghi speaking." With a nod and a smile, he left for Rosetta's room. There he found his aunt and uncle peering at Rose's screen. "Amazing," Salvatore said.

David could see only that the screen was split between two images.

"She can't possibly know," Rose said. "Can she?"

"She would have said."

"Will you warn her tonight?"

There was a pause while Salvatore thought. In the gap David said, "Hi."

Neither of the adults looked up or answered.

Finally Salvatore said, "I shouldn't think it's necessary."

Rosetta waved a hand in David's direction. "Hi, David."

Salvatore said, "Best to get it all together first, chapter and verse."

Rosetta said, "I agree." Then her telephone rang.

The adults ignored it, continuing to concentrate on the screen. After four rings David picked up the receiver and said, "Lunghi Detective Agency. David Lunghi speaking."

"David?" It was his grandmother. "That's David?"

"Yes, Grandma."

"Your aunt's not in her room? Because she's not in the kitchen."

"She's here, Grandma."

"Good. Good. Give her to me, OK?"

David tapped Rosetta on the shoulder and then pa.s.sed the telephone over. Rose took it without looking away from the screen.

Thursday was one of the three times a week that the family routinely ate together. Usually Rosetta made a curry. But when Marie arrived about six, exhausted ex-hausted, dahling from rehearsing Hedda Gabler at school, there was neither the smell of a curry nor anybody working at the cooker when she entered the kitchen. What was going on?